Collateral
by ssapientia
Summary: These old clans, they're not all that different, not all that sane. Hinata. Itachi. Hanabi. Sasuke. Madara. Neji.


**_I do not own Naruto. Told from Hinata's POV. Also there is a short companion piece from Hanabi's POV called 'Pleiades' on my profile, if you want to check it out._**

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><p><em>"In all of us there is a hunger, marrow deep, to know our heritage"<em>

_- Alex Haley_

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><p>Hanabi always dangles Hyuuga crests from any point that they will hang off. Hinata likes to think this is because she's proud, proud of her clan and her linage and ancestors, which is not such a bad thing, but knows it's not really true.<p>

Hyuuga crests are small and gold, made from silk stitching which reflects light like little crystals that dance along faces. They remind Hinata of those tiny fly flies Hanabi use to catch in jars in the summer and she would pout and protest because '_Hanabi that's cruel let them out.'_ Her younger sister would roll her eyes back and slap her lightly across the arm. But she never failed to twist the metal cap off the glass jar before clutching onto her own clammy hands and watching them fly away.

Old clans that blend into villages, like steaming water into tea leaves, have a habit of diluting themselves with common blood until there's nothing left. The Senju Clan is a great example, but there are exceptions. Most obviously there's the Uchiha, with their ancient pride and ancient malice. Hinata's father cannot remind her enough that their blood is riddled with hatred and betrayal, a firm believer in fate he is, her old man. They speak of an old old soul that loves the Uchiha enough to hate them, to want to slaughter every single one of them _(and they are speaking of things that will soon enough come true)_ but she can never remember his name, Madura? Medusa? They all sound the same, blend themselves into one mirror until there's no truth left behind it at all.

Despite what her father appears to feel, _never 'what' but 'appears' because Hyuuga's lie like snakes on trees,_ she can never think of the gold Hyuuga crests without that wide bright Uchiha emblem. It's plain, stitched with normal cotton thread and her elders would say it's plebeian and tacky. But in truth it's big, bold and it stands out across all their backs more than the twenty Hyuuga crests Hanabi dangles from every limb.

She is introduced to Itachi Uchiha as soon as she can speak, it's important she knows him, understands him, so she can rip away any undeserved pride he was born with. _A generation before, Hiashi Hyuuga outshone Fugaku Uchiha and it left very deep, blatant scars across the two clans fake, kindling alliances. _But it's obvious as soon as she can walk that Hinata is centuries behind the Uchiha heir and her father is displeased with his daughter for the very first time.

It's the first time of many.

The Uchiha heir is nothing but polite, Hinata thinks, but his eyes are black with burdens and he looks twice, no maybe even three times his age. He enjoys little smiles, little kindnesses, the ones that matter, but lives up to Uchiha coldness when prying eyes are watching. _The manipulative are being manipulated,_ is what Hinata would have said, if she could voice it at that age. Itachi understands though, it's a pact between allies, the look a man gives his comrade, _(how their fathers would laugh,)_ they are the same, and yet so different that Hinata could cry.

There is a younger Uchiha boy who clings to Itachi's waist with sticky glue fingers like Hanabi's glitter pictures made of paint and paper. It all makes sense somehow because he and Hanabi are equivalents in this _fucked_ _up_ archaic mess. This young boy, Sasuke Uchiha, he's her age and he's more interested in her then her younger sister, which is a first (or second, if you count Itachi) only because she hides in shadows instead of his shoulders like the girls in their academy classroom.

And all this time there's Neji, glaring venomously from behind a thick tree stump. Neither Sasuke nor Hanabi notice but Hinata does. She's scared, skin covered in goose bumps and cool sweat. Itachi twists her head away, it's the best he can do because he _knows._ But he can't encourage other children too much, not with Sasuke who's quick to envy and soon to suffer.

Then there is Madara from whispered myths, whom Hinata forgets quickly. He's watching them all with dead maggot eyes, and somehow he's a puppet but doesn't quite know it yet. Hanging on strings like the rest of them, _these old clan whores_. Uchiha pride is poisonous, but Hinata's always been taught that Uchiha's are simply bastards springing off her own family, so it's a poison that stains her veins just as much, _when oh when will the Hyuuga realise their hypocrisy_.

These old clans are not so different, with their vicious tongues and outrageous facades. It's a shame they didn't completely dilute into the bloody, liquid solution of hidden villages, springing up across the countries like thankful viruses. The children of these clans are not to different, Hinata thinks to herself as she hears of the disaster Sasuke has become, not quite forgetting the sacrificial mess Itachi always was.

She picks the thought up again while Hanabi is screaming under her father's hand, dark red curse marks slowly seeping into angry creases on her forehead. Neji stands back with a grimace, but does nothing to intervene.

These old clans are not so different, that she and Neji can stand back and watch this happen just as Itachi can slit his own mother's throat for the greater good of the world. Or that Hanabi can pin as many Hyuuga crests into her body in hopeless attempts to escape a mark that she might as well have left the womb with. It's the same as Sasuke blaming a whole village on his brother's death, ignoring the wishes behind those heavy black eyes, and Madara, ancient or dead, taking rage out on a generation that knows little to nothing about him.

It all makes her think of an older cousin who would dress her up as a child for such occasions. She'd pull together Hinata's clothes so tightly that the heiress would be biting back tears. Her cousin would ignore all the whimpers while pulling long fingers through her hair. One time she flipped her around and smiled. There was a dagger in that smile, there were fangs and claws and resentment in spades. '_Please Hinata-sama'_ she began sweetly, words dripping off her tongue like a black bubbling mix of mud, blood, shit and all the other pretty things their aristocratic words are made of. _'You must be still, Hyuuga-sama will expect you to be dressed perfectly tonight.' _The girls face is round and pretty, she couldn't have been older then sixteen at the time. Her hair was black, skin pale, and when she turned to the right Hinata could see the gray stain of the curse mark peeking out from beneath a dark fringe. _'Tonight especially,'_ she starts again, _' the Uchiha are visiting.'_

Years later, Hinata sighs. They're all the same, not all that sane.

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><p><em>Thanks for reading, please review! cheers :)<em>


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